“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Jax muttered. “You’re a goddess. If that was supposed to be not as good as last night, then it’s a wonder Drake survived and is alive and working today. Because that was heaven in my mouth. Is there anything you can’t do? A beautiful, sweet, compassionate woman and she can cook? Why do I never find them first,” he said mournfully.
Evangeline flushed with pleasure over the obvious sincere compliment, but then she swiftly took the plate and set it in the sink.
“Okay, we better get going or Drake is going to strangle both of us,” she said, only half joking.
On cue, Jax’s phone rang and he groaned. “That’s the boss wondering where the hell his lady is.”
“Yeah, you need to tell him about the horrible traffic jam we’re in,” she said with a perfectly straight face.
Jax laughed and then said the strangest thing. “Oh man, Drake is going to supply the guys with the most amusement we’ve encountered in a damn long time.”
Drake stifled the urge to look at his watch again, knowing that Silas and Hatcher would pick up on the fact that he wasn’t focused on what he should be focused on, which was the current handling of an issue that needed to be acted upon quickly. And Maddox, damn the man’s hide, who perpetually lurked in the shadows, a mere raised voice away, would know exactly where Drake’s mind was and it wasn’t on one Eddie Ryker. For that matter, Justice and Thane were currently sitting on Drake’s sofa for reasons unknown to Drake, leaning back as if they had nothing better to do than be on permanent break. He’d address their purpose for being here as soon as he dealt with the most pressing issue.
“So what do you want done, Drake?” Silas asked in his quiet, unruffled tone.
Silas was an enigma, one that Drake would never admit to not having ever figured out. He knew enough about the man he considered one of his most trusted and valued partners to not worry that his loyalty would ever lie elsewhere, and he knew, only from what he’d been able to dig up as public record, that Silas’s childhood had been the worst kind of hell, but he didn’t know much else.
If it were anyone but Silas, that wouldn’t sit well with Drake at all. He didn’t hire men who wore shadows like others wore clothing. But in Silas he saw a kindred soul, and he also saw a man who placed great value on a man’s word, particularly his own. In all the years they’d worked together, he’d never known Silas to break his word once given. Regardless of circumstance. And Drake would know otherwise. He made it his business to know everything about the men he trusted. Except, he thought ruefully, he’d made an exception with Silas since no one knew anything about the man other than what he chose for them to know.
Drake glanced at Hatcher, whose expression was bland and unruffled, though his fists were clenched at his sides, a sure sign of his irritation. Drake frowned at the tell. Men who broadcast their mood, thoughts or intentions were the ones most likely to get themselves killed.
“You will handle this, Silas,” Drake said, making a sudden reverse decision when before he’d fully intended to give the assignment to Hatcher. Though he had implicit trust in Silas when it came to taking care of problems that arose, this task was beneath his abilities. Any of his men could do what needed to be done, and though he suffered no conscience over using any of the men he partnered with and had made very wealthy men, he had to admit that every once in a while he grew concerned with the considerable burden that Silas, for the most part, bore alone as Drake’s clean-up-and-take-out-the-trash man. Silas was too valuable, too integral to Drake’s many less-than-aboveboard assignments.
If Silas knew that it had even crossed Drake’s mind to shield his muscleman, it would be a betrayal; Silas placed much emphasis on loyalty and carrying out any task Drake put to him, regardless of how dirty his hands got in the process. But then the entire reason Drake chose Silas for that particular role was that he could simply turn it off, do the job impersonally and without emotion or suffering a fit of conscience, two things Drake demanded of all his men, but especially Silas.
Silas wouldn’t question Drake’s decision or his motives, but if he had, he would have simply been honest about the fact that of all his men, Hatcher had been with him the shortest period of time, which meant he still had to prove his mettle not only with Drake but with his partners and brothers.
He shot Hatcher another quick glance, satisfied that at least he showed no outward reaction to Drake’s decision. But then he could hardly blame the man for his anger toward Eddie when Drake wanted nothing more than to hunt the little bastard down and kill him himself.